For Little Things
Last night I looked across the hillsAnd through an arch of darkling pineLow-swung against a limpid westI saw a young moon shine.
And as I gazed there blew a wind,Loosed where the sylvan shadows stir,Bringing delight to soul and senseThe breath of dying fir.
This morn I saw a dancing hostOf poppies in a garden way,And straight my heart was mirth-possessedAnd I was glad as they.
I heard a song across the seaAs sweet and faint as echoes are,And glimpsed a poignant happinessNo care of earth might mar.
Dear God, our life is beautifulIn every splendid gift it brings,But most I thank Thee humbly forThe joy of little things.
Words in this poem
- darkling a.
- Becoming dark or gloomy; frowing.
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- poignant a.
- Pricking; piercing; sharp; pungent. [F., p. pr. of poindre to sting, fr. L. pungere to prick, sting. See Pungent.]
- thank n.
- A expression of gratitude; an acknowledgment expressive of a sense of favor or kindness received; obligation, claim, or desert, or gratitude; -- now generally used in the plural. [AS. Þanc, Þonc, thanks, favor, thought; akin to OS. thank favor, pleasure, thanks, D. & G. dank thanks, Icel. Þ\'94kk, Dan. tak, Sw. tack, Goth. Þagks thanks; -]
- humbly adv.
- With humility; lowly.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
For Little Things is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Watchman and Other Poems (New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company, 1917; Toronto: McClelland, Goodchild and Stewart, 1916), Internet Archive; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: L. M. Montgomery, For Little Things, in The Watchman and Other Poems (1916), text of Internet Archive, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/montgomery-watchman/for-little-things.html, id L29383.
Form and metre
For Little Things is 20 lines in 5 stanzas of 4 lines each. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 93%).
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -A-A hills · pineA · west · shineA
- 2 -A-A wind · stirA · sense · firA
- 3 -A-A host · wayA · possessed · theyA
- 4 -A-A sea · areA · happiness · marA
- 5 -A-A beautiful · bringsA · for · thingsA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Last night I looked across the hills | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| And through an arch of darkling pine | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Low-swung against a limpid west | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I saw a young moon shine. | 6 | ······ |
| And as I gazed there blew a wind, | 8 | ········ |
| Loosed where the sylvan shadows stir, | 8 | ···/˘/·· |
| Bringing delight to soul and sense | 8 | /˘˘/···· |
| The breath of dying fir. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| This morn I saw a dancing host | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Of poppies in a garden way, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| And straight my heart was mirth-possessed | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And I was glad as they. | 6 | ······ |
| I heard a song across the sea | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| As sweet and faint as echoes are, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And glimpsed a poignant happiness | 8 | ···/˘/˘˘ |
| No care of earth might mar. | 6 | ······ |
| Dear God, our life is beautiful | 9 | ··/˘··/˘˘ |
| In every splendid gift it brings, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| But most I thank Thee humbly for | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The joy of little things. | 6 | ···/˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.